Ailments of the Backfiring Kind
by agent iz hyper
Summary: Gil wants to go to the fair in the village, but of course Halt won't give him the day off. So he decides to play sick so he can't do anything, then sneak off when Halt goes out… It's a foolproof plan! How hard could it be? / Sorta on hiatus...
1. Chapter 1

**Ailments of the Backfiring Kind**

-x-

Summary: Gil wants to go to the fair in the village, but of course Halt won't give him the day off. So he decides to play sick so he can't do anything, then sneak off when Halt goes out… It's a foolproof plan! How hard could it be?

Set: During Gilan's second year as an apprentice (or end of his first)

Characters: Gilan, Halt, Blaze… and anyone else who might or might not come in.

Genres: Humour… and humour…? *scratches head*

-x-

**Chapter one:** Absolutely foolproof

-x-

Sunlight was just beginning to shine through Gilan's window when he woke up. He opened his eyes blearily and yawned, sitting up as he did so. He grabbed the water jug by his bed and drank, then winced as he realised his throat felt _very_ swollen as he swallowed. Come to think of it, his nose was kind of runny too.

_Perfect timing_, the apprentice thought to himself with a sudden wicked grin. And he wasn't even being sarcastic. Today was the village fair which he'd wanted to go to since he'd heard of it a few weeks ago, but when he asked Halt, his mentor (predictably) refused.

And it wasn't just his refusal, it was the other thing Halt had mentioned; "Rangers don't waste their time going to meager festivals. And apprentices certainly don't waste _their_ time daydreaming about it. Besides, I'll be testing you on your geographical skills soon, Gil, and you really need to get working on those, if I remember correctly."

Of course, having gotten slightly sulky at the rejection, Gilan had to make a smart-alec comment to that ("You were getting old anyway, you sure your memory's fine?"). He regretted that. A lot. Sleeping in a tree for three nights was _not_ fun.

So, Gilan made a plan. He would act sick, too sick to go with Halt to wherever he was planning on going today and dragging his apprentice along. Then, when Halt was off, he would saddle up Blaze and get to the fair, and be back before Halt, easily.

It was foolproof, Gilan concluded as he swung his legs out of bed. Of course, he didn't take into account that Halt always told him "You're so dense sometimes, the most foolproof plans will fail with you". Maybe he should have taken that into consideration (but then, this is Gilan we're talking about).

Anyway, Gilan gathered that he had approximately twelve minutes until Halt expected him up and out of his room. He glanced at the mirror, satisfied to see that he already looked not-so-perfect, what with the slight flu he was feeling. It was winter, after all, and he'd slept with the window open so his plan would be easier to pull off. Add to that the fact that he'd been sleeping outside in the fairly cold weather for the three nights before that, and he had a solid reason for getting so ill.

Gil had learned years ago that if you wanted to pull off being ill, you had to start off with being at least a little bit sick already, to ensure maximum believability.

Gilan set to work. He started off with working on a slight feverish appearance; he rubbed his hands together fast so they became hot, then brought them to his cheeks and did the same, giving his face a flushed look. Then he tipped some water into his cupped hand, raised it over his head and slowly poured it down, letting the water drip down the front of his hair and forehead. Spreading it gave his face and hair the damp, unhealthy sheen he wanted.

Then he had to work on his eyes. He dug around under his bed cautiously (you _do not_ want to know what he felt under there… or what he thought he felt, anyway) until he found an old rough bit of dark chalk. He remembered using it ages ago to fake a wound on his arm. Now he rolled it between his fingers and carefully rubbed the dark shading under and around his eyes, making them look severely hollowed and dull. Gilan grinned at his masterpiece, but dropped it quickly when he realised it ruined his sick look – ailing people did not go around grinning like they'd accomplished something big, after all. So Gil quickly adopted his best ill face, getting rid of his ever-present grin for a slight frown and looking as bone-weary as he could. He even added the occasional sniff to perfect it.

And so Gilan went on, looking the epitome of someone who'd caught the winter flu.

Gil trudged into the sitting room/kitchen, making sure to step a tad unsteadily, as if his head were spinning. He sniffled a couple of times then looked around groggily for Halt.

"What's up with you, then?" his mentor's voice came from the table, where he was drinking his morning coffee and reading through reports. He glanced up at Gilan and frowned, taking in the flushed cheeks, bags under the eyes, and sweaty face.

"Must've caught the flu," Gil mumbled thickly – that part wasn't too hard. He found that his swollen throat really did hurt when he talked. He staggered to the nearest chair and collapsed in it with a small moan.

Halt sighed to himself. Apprentices really were tiresome things. Couldn't there be one winter where no-one got sick? He put down his reports and got up, going over to his seemingly miserable apprentice.

"Is it just a flu, Gil, or are you heating up too?" he asked, putting a hand on the youth's forehead.

Gilan groaned and coughed a couple of times before replying, "Dunno. M'head's spinnin'… And my throat's killin' me… Ouch."

He had to force down the smirk threatening to appear on his face from Halt's expression. Gil silently prayed that Halt couldn't tell the difference between a high temperature and a warmed-up face, when his mentor let go, standing properly to survey him. Gilan mentally sighed in relied when he saw the look on Halt's face that pretty much confirmed the fact that he really thought Gil was sick.

"Well, I'll make some soup and you can drink that," Halt finally said, frowning. He'd been planning on testing the boy's skills in map-reading and tactics, not to mention taking him out to a high slope where Gilan could practice his knife throwing from angles. Looks like he'd have to change plans then. "Stay by the fire for now, and we'll see what'll happen to you then."

Gilan's eyes widened, but he covered it up quickly with a sneeze (which wasn't faked, by the way). "Are't you goin' subwhere?" he asked, somewhat unclearly due to his now-blocked nose.

Halt raised an eyebrow inquiringly as he made his way to the kitchen. "Not that I'm aware of." He shot his apprentice an odd look, seeing the badly-covered-up downtrodden expression, then shrugged and went to make the soup.

_Now what?_ Gilan asked himself in frustration. If Halt didn't go out of the house, how was he supposed to sneak out to the fair? He couldn't very well just _sit_ there all day _doing nothing_. That would be… disastrous! And so _boring_.

Obviously, wherever Halt had been planning to go, he had wanted to take Gilan with him, which was why he wasn't going anymore.

Looks like some improvising was to be done…

-x-

_A/N: Improvising, indeed. There's no knowing what Gil would (or could) do to go to the fair… __And, yeah, this was short, but it's gunna be a short fic (around 4 or 5 chapters, maybe). I hope this was a good beginning._

_Big thanks to Dodo.123 for Beta-ing this :) Oh, and for nit-picking the 'He sniffled a couple of times then looked around groggily for Halt' line because I missed out the word 'looked'. :P _

_Soo.. review people. What do you reckon Gil's gunna do to get rid of Halt? And how's he gunna do it? (that's a stupid question… this is Gilan, after all)._

_Cheers~_

_izzy :D_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:** Suspicions and Deductions

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"You sure you don't- _*cough*_ - godda abbointmen' - _*sniff*_ - with Crowley?"

Halt barely looked up from where he was adjusting some arrows. "Yes I'm sure. Why?"

Gil sniffled and dropped onto the couch. Apparently, being sick meant he couldn't do anything outdoors in that weather. So Halt set him to sweep the floors, wipe the table, fix his room, clean the pots, and do just about anything that his mentor said would take his mind off his killer headache.

_Apparently_, doing his chores might as well do his body some good, so he wouldn't feel too weak from being ill – which is what lying in bed all day would tend to do.

Gilan had a niggling suspicion that Halt was enjoying this a bit too much.

"Nothing. Jus' wondering." He glanced out the window. The sun was shining brightly, though it was clearly windy. Still, he thought morosely, it was a nice day for a fair.

A few more moments of silence passed.

"This is so_ boring_!" Gilan groaned, throwing his arms up and slumping back on the couch. He regretted it when the sudden movement made his head throb more. He'd gotten a lot worse in the last couple of hours, and he wasn't faking it anymore either. _The chores _did not_ help_, he thought moodily. That didn't mean he wasn't trying to milk it for all it was worth, though, but that proved to be a difficult task if Halt was convinced he'd be better by midday. Seemed like Gil's constant coughing and sneezing and moaning about his throbbing headache didn't exactly prove to his mentor that he was too sick to venture outside and that Halt should just go and do whatever he needed to.

That didn't mean he didn't feel well enough to go to the fair. He definitely did. He just had to get rid of Halt for a good few hours, but that was proving difficult, what with his mentor practically forcing medical broth down his throat every hour. He needed a distraction, and a good one at that.

It was times like these that Gilan wished Crowley would send one of those highly important and confidential messages that sent Halt away for days.

"This is your entire fault," he griped now to his mentor, who finally looked up so he could give the youth one of his famous eyebrow-raised skeptical looks.

"And how exactly is you falling ill my fault?" he queried, raising the eyebrow higher at the smirk on Gil's face.

"Because," Gilan paused for a cough. "You're the one who made me sleep outside in this freezing weather. For three nights. Hence making me sick." He nodded somewhat proudly at his brilliant deduction.

Halt stared at him, then said gruffly, "In that case, it's your own fault you slept outside. Maybe next time you should think before making a wisecrack comment."

He knew as soon as the words left his mouth it wasn't the right thing to say.

Gilan's smirk grew wider. "But I'm an apprentice. I'm not ready to think!" He'd always wanted to use that back on Halt, and now he couldn't wipe the triumphant look off his face as the Ranger glared at him but otherwise ignored the comment.

Boring? Who said this was boring? If being sick meant he could sit there and tease Halt without worrying about being chased around for it, heck, he'd take the chance any day!

Well, almost any day. Today was _not _a day that he wished to be stuck indoors.

And then – watching Halt write a reply to some important letter – Gilan was struck with what he saw as a damn brilliant idea.

He just needed a bit of time alone…

-x-

_A'N: -hides- I know, I know, it's horribly short! Heck, this is the shortest chapter I've ever posted up. But I didn't want to keep you guys waiting, and I thought this might answer a few questions as to whether Halt believes that Gil is as sick as he's making himself out to be. Might. You decide for yourself – is he fooled by Gil's 'acting', or is he secretly having a laugh behind his apprentice's back and enjoying his 'payback' by assigning him so many chores?_

_And no, I won't tell you the answer. _

_So yeah. I just thought I'd post this up already, 'cause I'm redoing the next bit seeing as it didn't exactly live up to my expectations, and it's an important scene. I don't wanna post that up if it's crappy._

_Sorry, again, for the shortness; though to be fair, this is supposed to be a short fic anyway. Or, like a really long one shot divided up into sections. Either one.._

_Anyway, don't forget to review! Special thanks to the three who did review last chapter: __**MidnightBloom17, Dodo.123**__ (give your laptop a kick from me if it's still not working :P), and the un-signed-in __**ME**__. Least amount of reviews I've gotten on a chapter in a looong time xD Can't say I'm used to seeing only three reviews. Make me happy and review this one, please? 0:-)_

_(This A/N's gunna turn out longer than the chapter… O.o)_

_~izzy :D_


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